


Orders

by kay_obsessive



Category: Dishonored (Video Games)
Genre: F/M, Femdom, Uniforms
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-11
Updated: 2019-11-11
Packaged: 2021-01-18 16:44:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,635
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21279953
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kay_obsessive/pseuds/kay_obsessive
Summary: They told themselves they were good at keeping things separate
Relationships: Daud/Billie Lurk | Meagan Foster
Comments: 4
Kudos: 10
Collections: Femdom Exchange 2019





	Orders

**Author's Note:**

  * For [reconditarmonia](https://archiveofourown.org/users/reconditarmonia/gifts).

_I could kill him_.

Her blade was at his neck, pressed close and sharp, one small twitch of the wrist away from bleeding him. She met his eyes, met the challenge there, and imagined how it would be to watch the light and life fade from them as the blood gushed between her fingers, to feel the rise and fall of his chest slow beneath her as his breath stopped coming.

But he could kill her, too. She could feel his fist against her thigh, the knife he held turned inward, steady and poised just as she was to make that fatal cut.

Her heart raced at the thought of what might happen, at who would move first and what the other could do once that move was made. Would they both lie bleeding out at the end of this? 

Then, unexpectedly, Daud surrendered. Something changed in his eyes, and the press of the knife’s edge pulled away from her flesh. His chest still heaved, but he made no other movement from underneath her.

_I could kill him_, she thought again, watching him watch her, feeling him swallow beneath her hand. Her skin felt like fire everywhere they touched, everywhere she could feel his pulse still pounding.

She turned her blade away, pressing the flat of it to his chin, tipping his head back, and put her mouth to his neck instead, her teeth scraping, rough but harmless, at his throat. The knife in his hand slipped to the floor as he yielded to her even more thoroughly.

* * *

They were always very good at keeping things separate in their lives. It was a necessary skill for anyone who made a living off of death, and it carried over easily enough to this. They only ever even talked about it once, days later and far away from the Whalers and their work, the pair of them walking out of uniform along the docks and watching the ships come and go with their loads of cargo and passengers. No one gave them so much as a second glance, though Billie was sure they had passed at least three posters bearing Daud’s face and offering rich rewards on their way to the river’s edge. It always seemed absurd to her, how ignorant people could be of who and what moved among them. She had noticed the power Daud held in an instant, well before she knew his face or his crimes, had hungered for it and followed it all across the city like a hound with a scent.

And now she had felt that power bow its head beneath her hands, if only once, only briefly.

They first spent some time eyeing up an impressive-looking ship flying the Morleyan royal colors, speculating on what noble or ambassador it had brought to their shores and then trading ideas on how they might reach such a target if someone hired them for the hit. An old game between them. They’d probably amassed a few dozen half-serious plans for breaking into nearly every building in the city by now.

Then in the lull after Billie’s final suggestion of just shooting out the windows of the stateroom, Daud turned toward her and said, “Nothing can interfere with our work. You know I’ve never cared what anyone does outside of that as long as orders are carried out. That applies to me as much as it does to you and any of the others.”

Billie worked to keep her expression neutral, trying not to show her surprise and to hide the eagerness that surged suddenly into being in her chest. She had been content enough to follow his lead and act like nothing unusual had happened between them, to continue on as they always had for the time. But if he was talking about it… “I think we’ve done all right at that,” she said carefully.

He nodded, just as slow and careful, and they held each other’s eyes silently for the span of several moments, an agreement being made in the unsaid. She had a sudden desire to reach out, to see if he would bend to her again even now.

But Daud stepped back and turned away. “Orders will be carried out,” he repeated firmly, simply.

Billie nearly laughed. It had taken all of her effort just to fight him to a standstill, and she was sure it wouldn’t have ended well for her without his willing surrender. Someday, maybe, but for now… 

“Of course,” she said.

* * *

She liked the look of herself in his whaling coat, the glimpse of deep red draped around her like a spray of blood, caught in the reflection on clouded glass in the room’s small windows. She liked the feel of it against her skin too, the heavy leather still warm from his body, smelling faintly of sweat and smoke and Void. He didn’t have much height on her, but he was a fair bit broader in the shoulders, and the coat hung lower than her own, just brushing her calves.

The weight of it felt important in a way she couldn’t name, made her heart race and her breath come heavy.

She tore her eyes from the glass and moved back toward the center of the room.

Daud was as she had left him, still and straight-backed in his undershirt, the dust of the floor grinding into the knees of his trousers. Only his eyes moved, intent and focused as they tracked her progress drawing closer.

When she stopped in front of him, that focus faltered noticeably, his gaze flickering downward as she smoothed her hands down over the red leather, pushing the edges apart, pulling it open a little more. Even when she said, “Look at me,” he was slow to follow through, eyes lingering obviously on their way up to her face, dark and heavy-lidded when they met her own. She swallowed, feeling her pulse pick up again, and then she laughed, the sound slipping out low and quiet.

Such blatant desire from him was as strange as it was thrilling. She’d never met any other man or woman so tightly controlled in that area, and it had long been the topic of idle speculation among her fellow Whalers when out of their boss’s hearing. And occasional grumbling, during Daud’s worse moods, that he clearly needed to arrange for a night at the Golden Cat or _whatever_ suited his tastes and might make him relax.

Billie could still keep stone-faced during those conversations, but each time she saw him like this made it more of a challenge.

She put her foot against the top of his leg and slid it upward and inward, eliciting a sharp inhale that made her grin, and then leaned in further, her knee nearly brushing his cheek as her shin came to rest on his shoulder. His head turned to the side, tipped forward just a bit, enough for her to feel the scrape of stubble on her thigh, and she put her hand under his chin to gently pull him back to center.

His eyes stayed on hers through it all, though. He took orders well for someone so used to giving them, but then Daud wasn’t always this, the Knife of Dunwall, the leader of the city’s most feared assassins. He had come up from nothing, just like her. Had clawed his way up to the very top, and now she was following just behind.

With sudden fondness, Billie stroked her fingers through his hair, then grabbed at it roughly and pulled him closer, her knee slipping off his shoulder. “Go on, then,” she said.

And he leaned in eagerly, between her thighs, beneath the dark shadow of the red leather, and Billie enjoyed that image until other pleasures demanded her attention, closed her eyes and clenched her hands and let her head tip back.

When she was granted her own whaling coat in deep red some months later, she believed the reasons Daud gave for it. He always understood the power of a strong image, knew how much belief in a thing made it the way it was. Under his ruling hand, the Whalers had become more than just another mercenary gang running the streets; they were a nightmare that haunted the dreams of an entire city, an otherworldly legend whispered on terrified breaths. And Billie standing at Daud’s side, cloaked as he was in the color of blood, said far more to their followers and to all of Dunwall than any proclamation of her rank and deadly skill could, even straight from the Knife’s own mouth.

But when she let her old coat drop to the floor and pulled the red one on in its place, smoothing it down with a familiar motion, Daud’s eyes followed the path of her hands and lingered where the hem brushed her thighs.

Billie turned away to hide her smirk. They were working now, going over contracts and planning the next hit. 

And they told themselves they were good at keeping things separate.

* * *

They had always had an understanding, long before anything else got tangled up between them, near as long as they had know each other. From the moment Daud put a blade in her hands and watched her fight and said she had potential.

Someday this would become more than just a game, just a private release. Someday Daud would grow weak, and Billie would seize her moment. They both knew that time would come. She repeated it to herself each day she plotted against him to keep the guilt at a low, quiet level she could just manage to ignore.

But maybe it was only Billie who couldn’t keep things separate in the end.

He looked so hurt when she confessed to her betrayal.


End file.
